Soul of a Lioness
by SoHo Chic
Summary: The expanded and rewritten version of Chain Reaction. What happens when there is no Thom? Not your typical Alanna goes to the Convent... Sorry this took so long, guys
1. In Which Gary Meets Alanna

_"Papa!" _

_The voice echoed through the hall. _

_"Papa!" The high, panicked voice of a young girl accompanied the pattering of frantic small feet. "Papa, Papa!" No other voice answered hers, nothing but her own heavy breaths. Her eyes were wide and terrified; she grew closer to hysteria as she drew nearer to the door at the end. Light streaming down from high cuts in the wall captured flashes of muddy gown, tangles of her unruly red mane. _

_"Papa!" All the unspoken fears of a child threatened to burst from her breast. Her heart thundered impossibly loud, pounded painfully within her tiny chest. _

_Scrambling and tripping over her unkempt dress, the girl fell forward into familiar arms. Cool hands stroked her face and wiped away her tears. A warm voice soothed her shaking breaths. _

_"Where's Papa, Maude?" she whispered. "I saw him. I saw him!" _

_The kind face drew away for a moment, and a worried expression crossed her brow, darkening the features. "What's this, child? What do you mean that you saw him? You saw him where?" _

_"I saw him fall," replied the girl. "I saw rain, and the horse, and I saw—where's Papa?" _

_"You saw it?" The woman shook her. "Quick! Tell me exactly what you saw, Alanna! Tell me now," she said urgently. _

_"Papa was riding again, and I saw raining, and then—" _

_"Yes? Yes, what did you see?" _

_But the girl was white and mute with fear. No matter how much she shaken and prodded her, not another word was to be gotten out of her. "Papa, Papa!" was her only response. "Where's Papa?" _

_"She saw it, Coram!" the woman cried to the man guarding the door. "She knows what happened." _

_"Best then she not remember," said the man, shifting uneasily. "Get the lass to sleep. Let her think t'was a dream. She can't see him. Best ye say naught to her, hear?" _

_"Papa, Papa!" the girl screamed, writhing in her nurse's arms. "Take me to Papa!" _

_The woman looked at him for a long time before nodding. "You're right. She shouldn't see the bloody sight." Gathering the child tightly in her arms, she cooed softly into her ear, "Later, Alanna. Papa is busy now. It's time for you to sleep. You can see him in the morning." _

_"No!" she roared, beating her nurse now with her fists. "I want Papa! Papa!" _

_"Hush, lass!" the man yelled, grabbing hold of her little arms. "Papa's not here. Ye settle down now, little 'un. Hush yer yellin'! What, wake the house with yer ravin'?" _

_"He fell!" she yelled. "I saw him fell! I saw the horse—the horse… I saw the red…" _

_She fell silent and still, of a sudden. A queer, cold look passed over her eyes. Her face hardening, the girl slipped out of the woman's arms and approached the door. Coram reached to draw her back, but she whipped about suddenly, her eyes blazing with fire. _

_"Leave me," she hissed, the voice of untamed hell contained within its timbres. "Don't touch me." Sparing a glare for Maude, who remained rooted with shock, she once again made for the door. Now entering the hallowed chamber uncontested, she resolutely strode towards the covered body at its center. Maude and Coram watched by the door as the small white hands grasped the sheets and the little arms lifted them over her father's head. _

_A pale scream pierced the air, and the bloodless girl fell senseless to the ground. _

Chapter One—

The last to step down was clearly the plainest of the five. Long ago disinterested, Sir Gareth the Younger watched sleepily as the final new lady of the court descended the stair. Unlike those who came before, she was dressed dully in somber grays, her modest attire moving stiffly about her. Lady Alanna of something-or-other. Not that it mattered. He could sense already that she would fade away into the vibrant colors of court, quickly forgotten by men and women alike.

"Seventeen," Alex murmured, nudging him. Gary started.

"Is that the one?" Now he peered closer at her. So this was the lady who was the talk of the court. Eight years she'd spent in the Convent, a shameful two years longer than was expected of any well-bred gentlewoman. Though he couldn't see her face yet, everything about her manner was harsh and unyielding. _Like stone_, he thought.

"I can see why it took her so long," commented Geoff. "She looks about as nice as a brick. And as pretty as one."

Gary watched as she reached the end of the stairway. Nobody offered her an arm, and she stood there, still as a statue. Instead of disappearing into the crowd, she remained separate, keeping people at bay as if by some indomitable force of will.

"Like a sore thumb," Alex muttered. Gary glanced at him sharply, and then noticed the gawking people and the whispering ladies of gossip.

"Shouldn't have left the Convent," Geoffrey commented.

"They couldn't have kept her any longer," Raoul pointed out.

"Still—look at her. She doesn't fit in here." The knights nodded in agreement.

"And why not?" Gary cut in. A sense of indignation stirred within him. Almost angrily, Gary strode towards her, glaring at the staring people he passed.

When he caught sight of her face, he too seemed to be caught in the spell. She stared before her with unseeing eyes, unaware of the people around. Her limbs were imprisoned in coarse fabric, her neck likewise. The red tresses were pinned tightly to her head in a similar uncompromising fashion. All of it rigid, all of it unyielding; indeed, like a living statue. She might have been lovely once, even beautiful, but the hard set of her lips and the cold lifelessness in her violet eyes had suppressed all traces of vitality. Her ivory skin was perfectly pale and smooth—too smooth. Every vestige of laughter, all lines of worry were eerily absent from the stone image of her face. There was nothing left but a hint of anger at her brow, a whisper of bitterness around her mouth. The woman in her was eroded away into a vision to frighten even the boldest warrior.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Gary gathered his courage and bowed to her. "Care for a dance, milady? I am Sir Gareth of Naxen, the younger."

A flash of malice flickered through her marbleized eyes, and then she curtseyed to him. "Of course, sir. A dance would please me." As the musicians struck the first chords of the dance, she extended her arm in a fluid, practiced motion and strode into place across him.

Every step was a strike at the ground. She didn't dance but lashed out at the floor with fury. Slowly, her eyes grew frenzied; her breathing harsher as she increased her pace, dancing at a speed that Gary struggled to match. Yet she was ever in time with the music, her feet pounding its rhythm as the demonically possessed.

And then the final notes, a sweep of the skirt, and she was again immaculate and still. Her flushed cheeks faded to white, her eyes dimmed. Dipping politely, she already seemed to lose interest in the world around her, retreating into deeper thoughts. Gary had the urge to wave his hand in front of her eyes to assure that she was not blind.

"Tired, milady?" he ventured. He gestured towards a bench near the windows. "Perhaps you wish to have a seat?"

She bared her teeth at him in what he supposed she thought looked like a smile. "I wait for a waltz." She looked around with hall with a disinterested gaze. "But if you wish, sir—?"

Gary shook his head. "Then let us have a seat, lady." Taking her gently by the elbow, he ushered her into the empty bench he'd suggested earlier and seated her in it. She allowed him to move her about, like a doll.

"You needn't concern yourself with me, sir," she said, not looking at him. "I am quite alright."

"Nay, lady. I am here because I wish to be." He paused, waiting for her to focus her attention on him, but her eyes continued to wander aimlessly over the dancers. "Your name, lady?"

"Alanna of Trebond."

"A lovely name," he said. The corner of her lip curved downward a fraction, and her eyes wavered momentarily. Then the moment was over as quickly as it had come.

"If it pleases you, milord," she said finally. "Sir Gareth, is it not?" She looked at him for the first time, taking in the details of his face with one sweep. "Son of the king's advisor?"

"Yes," Gary said uncomfortably.

"And one day you will be the prince's advisor, no?" Her piercing eye had passed over his features and was presently scrutinizing the rest o him.

"Yes—Jon."

Now she fully turned to face him, looking at him levelly. "You are a knight of the realm, sworn to protect Tortall and your king, even with your life." Something glittered in her eyes. "You worked hard for the right to vow that."

"Yes." Gary felt a peculiar tingling of fear. Her hungry eyes seemed to devour him; his skin was crawling. "And you, lady?" he asked finally, breaking eye contact.

"I?" she uttered softly. Confusion flitted between the smooth brows, and then she sat still, staring dumbly ahead. Once again, she had become distant and untouchable.

"What of your life?" he prompted.

"Indeed, what of it…"

"Well… you have just come from the Convent. Are you weary from your travel still? What do you make of our city?"

"Different."

"… Do you find the weather pleasant?"

A stiff shrug in reply. Gary shifted in his seat and watched her veiled eyes wander the dancing throngs.

"…Do you like court?" he prompted.

"No."

"…How was the Convent?"

Another jerk of the shoulders to indicate her indifference. Gary cleared his throat uncomfortably and attempted conversation once again.

"…How do you find our liege and his family?"

She barked a laugh. "Royal."

"And, er…how is _your_ family?"

At last, he seemed to have touched upon a subject that affected her, for her jaw clenched tight and she glared at him coldly. "Is it common custom to interrogate visitors of the court? Is it the will of his highness that his guests are made uncomfortable? Or perhaps only _you _are being so impertinent, sir?"

Shocked by her outburst, Gary opened and shut his mouth mutely. "_Sir Gareth_," she continued, gathering her skirts, "I thank you for your company tonight, unwanted as it was—"

"Unwanted?" Gary stared at her in indignant disbelief. "_My_ company was unwanted?" **_I_**_ wasn't the one that nobody wanted to associate with_. His unvoiced thought hung in the air between them.

She flinched, her face contorting, and then abruptly stilling. "I am weary, sir. I … believe I will retire for the evening." Then, as an afterthought, "A pleasure to meet you tonight."

"But you have not yet met his highness." Raoul's objecting voice and his large hand on her shoulder stopped her.

Startled, Alanna glanced from Raoul to the prince and then helplessly to Gary. "I will meet him tomorrow," she said to Raoul. "Tonight I am—"

"Nonsense," replied Raoul.

"Welcome to our court, and to Corus, lady."

Alanna stared at the prince, who inclined his head toward her with amusement, his eyes mocking her. She rose and curtseyed deeply, the degree required for royalty. "I thank you for your welcome. And your kind presence." She spoke ironically, and Gary watched her mouth curve into a bitter smile. "However, I'm afraid that I have extended my strength too far after the journey here, and must retire for the evening."

"Such a shame!" commented Alex upon entering their circle, with a tone of dishonesty. "The night has only begun. Listen, a waltz."

"Lady!" Gary leapt to his feet. "You said that you wished for a waltz? Well, then I cannot let you leave tonight without your wish fulfilled!" He grinned triumphantly, extending his arm toward her. Her eyes were coldly venomous as she accepted his hand and stepped onto the floor.

"Are those your friends?" she asked. "How… kind of them to… take the time to greet me."

"Forgive them, lady," Gary apologized sincerely, "if they seemed too forward or too… well, if they seemed to behave in an unseemly manner." _Forgive them for gawking at you, but you only deserved it. _

She bared her teeth again in a forced smile, and whirled viciously to stomp on his foot. "Oh, no. I'm sure that they only wanted me to feel at home here."

Gary faltered for a only a moment in his steps, and angrily lengthened his stride. Far shorter, Alanna struggled to keep up. "Well, lady, they are good knights and good men."

"And Prince Jonathan is, I'm sure, a great and gracious leader," she panted, increasing her pace and losing grace. The waltz was over quickly, and before she good disentangle her arm from his, Gary had carried her into a gavotte.

"Before you can protest," he said as she glared at him, "please grant me a few more moments with you, my lady. I wish to be the first at court to gain your favor."

She opened her mouth and then shut it abruptly, as if to swallow her comment. "You do me too much honor," Alanna said mechanically. "You most certainly have my favor."

"Oh, really?" Gary answered skeptically, wondering what her motive was. "Have I earned your favor so easily?"

"Yes. Well—" Alanna faltered. "Not that you earned it easily, but that you are the first man to have expressed such courtesy." She stepped closer to him, dancing with her face only three handbreadths away from his. Now fully confused, Gary didn't move to stop her as she left him at the end of the gavotte. It was only as she'd walked halfway across the hall did he chase after her.

"Lady Alanna!" he called, but she continued as if she hadn't heard. "If I could see you sometime tomorrow during the day--? Or, if you would do me the honor of dining with me at banquet tomorrow night?"

She paused briefly, furrowing her brow at him for a moment, her confusion equal to his, before turning and leaving without an answer.

Gary returned to his friends dumbfounded.

"Well, so you have taken a liking to her?" mocked Alex. "Did you find her stony demeanor to be attractive? There aren't women like that anywhere else! That's one in a million."

"… Yes," said Gary, having only heard the end of Alex's statement. "There's something very strange about her. I wonder what her game is…"

"Game?" prompted Raoul.

"Mm?" Gary smiled wearily. "Yes, I think that she's some sort of motive for acting the way she does, and not the common lady's motive, either. I wonder what it is that she wants."

"I'm sure she wants what all other women here want," laughed Alex. "To catch herself a knight in good standing for a husband! She can't have any other motive but that."

"Yes, if you say so. You _are _the womanizer, Alex," said Gary's mouth, but his mind continued to ponder the contradictions in Alanna's manner.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gary hurriedly strode across the library, official scrolls in one ink-stained hand and sheafs of parchment in the other. Abruptly he stopped, and retraced his steps to a chair by a window in an obscure corner of the library. In it, a petite lady sat with her legs extended onto the desk before her, the starched grey linen folded under her crossed ankles, chewing her thumbnail and absorbing a large leather-bound book. Her red hair was plastered back against her skull with grease, and the light through the window shone off the top of her head.

"Lady--?" Gary said quietly in disbelief. She shut the book so suddenly that she dropped it. Swinging her legs off the desk, she retrieved it hastily and set it on the table, facing downward.

"S-sir Gareth!" She glanced over his blotched shirt and the papers in his hands. "Are you busy?"

"Oh, this," he said, shrugging. "No, it's nothing too important. Did you sleep well? Are you rested enough to partake fully in banquet tonight?"

"I—ah—well," flustered Alanna, "if milord wishes me there, then I will see to it that I _am _well enough."

"I was… simply so surprised to… find you here," Gary explained. He did not add, 'positioned as you were,' but she seemed to know anyway, for she sat up straighter.

"I—ah—yes. Well. Are you sure that you aren't needed elsewhere?" She rose. "Would you like help with… ah, that?"

"Oh, no. I'm finished with this. What… well, not many ladies, or anyone for that matter, comes here. What… if I may ask, are you doing?" Gary noticed for the first time that there were several books scattered across the table, opened to various pages. He caught in the corner of one the sketched diagram of a sparring stance.

"I was just… looking," Alanna said vaguely, beginning to gather up the books. "I simply wanted to experience all of… court life here in Corus."

Gary laughed. "This is hardly part of court life. For that, you'd probably want to go to the gardens, where the other ladies like to gossip. What of the ladies who came with you from the convent? Why are you not with them?"

"I…. ah….," Alanna struggled with one particularly large book. Gary dropped his scrolls on the table and took the books from her.

"Here, lady, I will put these away." He looked at the titles. A book of Tortallian war history, an analytical book on fighting technique, another on—

"No, you needn't trouble yourself," she argued, pulling a few away. "You seem to be very busy, and needed elsewhere."

"Why don't you let me," said Gary, taking the books from her again, "put these away for you, and then you can return the favor by helping me to deliver these scrolls?"

Alanna was shocked enough that Gary managed to file away the books before she responded. "Why, if you insist on my company—"

"Not insist, lady," answered Gary, bowing and attempting to kiss her hand, but she snatched it away. "But it would please me. Very much. Will you grant this to the knight who has your favor?"

"I… ah…"

"You seem at such a loss for words during the daytime," Gary said, smiling. "You seemed to know just what to say last night. I think I may be disappointed."

"Oh!" Alanna opened and closed her mouth, then squinted at him distrustfully. Gary couldn't keep from laughing, but stopped when he saw the look of distrust deepen.

"Lady, forgive me." He bowed deeply. "I meant not to offend you, not at all. I am only very … intrigued with you, and sometimes I say things I might not mean."

She seemed to have collected herself, for she took some of his scrolls into her arms. "Well, of course. Where are you taking these?"

"Only to Sir Myles, lady," he said, leading the way. "He taught all the knights history. If you wish to know anything about Tortallian war history, you may ask him."

Alanna flushed. "I don't know what you mean by that. Ladies don't concern themselves with war."

Gary gaped at her for a moment. "But you were reading—"

"Sir, where are you going after you deliver these?" she interrupted.

"Well, only to practice sparring with Sir Alex. I'm always so easily bested. It keeps me humble."

She tilted her head sideways at him. "Would you enjoy my company there as well, sir?"

"Why no, lady. You don't need to come watch two men fighting, even if it isn't serious," he assured her.

"But," she said slowly, with a slightly predatory smile, "what if I wish to enjoy more of the day with the knight who has my favor? If I want to witness my knight's prowess?"

Gary stopped and stared at her, examining her features until she stilled them again into stiffness. He smiled with genuine appreciation, and winked at her. "My lady, your secret is safe with me."

"I—don't know what you mean," she said, hurrying to follow him, as he'd started off again.

"Well, then, it was nothing," he said. "I simply understand your wishes now." Alanna didn't reply.

It didn't take them long to find Sir Myles, and when they handed him the scrolls, Gary introduced her.

"This is lady Alanna. Of Trebond, sir. Lady, this is Baron Myles of Olau."

"Oh, nonsense, these formalities." Sir Myles smiled warmly at her, his curiosity only slightly restrained. "Well, you must be a very kind soul for helping Gary here."

"You're too kind, sir," said Alanna, but she watched Gary, waiting for him to mention her choice in reading.

But Gary simply inclined his head. "Lady? If you would still like to accompany me to the courtyards? Myles, she wishes to watch me be beaten by Alex. Probably numerous times by the end of the afternoon."

Sir Myles laughed. "Well, then, I won't keep you two. Thank you for having these done so quickly." He bowed briefly and trailed away.

"Isn't he nice?" Gary smiled. "And see, I said that I would keep your secret."

"If you—" Alanna stopped. "Well, I don't think that I need to bother you in your sparring. I will see you tonight, Sir Gareth. Thank you."

"Please, my friends call me Gary. Gareth is my father. What is it that you were about to say?" he prompted.

"Nothing; you needn't concern yourself, it was an irrelevant female bromide."

"Was it? I don't think so. I think I might insist on your continued company if you don't tell me," said Gary seriously. "And you cannot refuse the knight who has your favor." He watched the amusement creeping into her eyes. "He might be sick with heartache if you refuse him."

Her face shut closed again, and the immobility returned.

"Oh, you men!" Alanna snapped. "Always teasing, always toying with women. Don't say things that you don't mean!"

"Why lady, I would never--!" exclaimed Gary. "I am deeply, deeply sorry. I only have the deepest respect for you, and meant it truly that I would never do anything to slight your honor. I have, and will keep my word."

"If you—if you knew what you meant by keeping my secret," she said softly, almost as if speaking to herself. Gary raised her hand to his lips, and this time she didn't move when he kissed it.

"Lady, not a word. Not even to you."

"Then you will excuse me when I say that cannot accompany you further." Alanna curtseyed.

"I hope I have not your disfavor now?"

Alanna hesitated. "… No, Sir knight." For the first time in years, a small smile decorated the corners of her eyes, a real smile. "No, you still have my favor."


	2. In Which Thoughts Are Revealed

Chapter Two-

Alanna of Trebond was sent to the convent at the age of eight, a year after the death of her father and the passage of the Trebond estate into the hands of Marlon Stanmore, a close enough relative to be trusted but still too distant that Maude deemed it necessary for Alanna to leave two years earlier than planned. She wasn't missed much.

The six years of convent life that followed were relatively peaceful ones; Alanna wasn't much of a social child, anyway, and kept primarily to herself; the gossip and general hate of the other girls rarely seemed to affect her. However, the Daughters' determination to feminize her was met with a rather strong passive resistance—she so rarely came to instruction or followed what was taught when she did decide to come.

Finally, with two extra years within the convent walls, enough of a court lady's ways was impressed upon her mind that the priestesses finally deemed her adequately prepared to ensnare a husband of relatively good standing. At least, they hoped that some old spinster from a good family would find her easy enough to live with and wed her.

To ensure that this was accomplished, the First Daughter sent Alanna to Corus with the three most tolerant and feminine ladies possible, charged with encouraging any good matches and aiding Alanna in sealing the marriage contract.

Presently, one of the ladies, Meganne, was doing exactly that.

"Sir Gareth was not interested in anyone else last night," she said, in a tone resembling praise. "And he is not usually interested in women. You have him for certain, Alanna!"

Alanna's lip twitched as she considered telling Meganne off. Instead, she settled on ignoring her and continuing to read the book she'd stolen from the library. It was the manuscript of fighting stances, and Alanna shuffled her feet as she sat, imagining them.

"And how he called after you, for everyone to hear! My dear, you've surprised me. Sir Gareth with become the king's advisor one day. And imagine how envious the other ladies will be, that you will always be invited to royal events and near Prince Jonathan!"

"I'm sure," Alanna said, allowing an obvious amount of annoyance into her voice.

"Why, most ladies would be lucky to find a man not older than their father, but Sir Gareth is young, and by the Goddess, is he a sight! You would have beautiful sons, if they were to resemble him."

"And if they resembled me?" Alanna's lip curled at the irony. Meganne, usually a clever conversationalist, seemed not to notice any of her underlying meanings. Apparently, she was only skilled in identifying those of men at court.

"Oh, Alanna, _do _do everything that you can; he's absolutely perfect, and-and you don't know what other men you might have a chance with. He might be unaccustomed to women, and… fumble a bit, but you must make him realize that you want marriage first; you know how those men are about avoiding those things until it's absolutely necessary. And his family is very old and very respectable, and he's sure to provide for you handsomely! His mother _always _wore the largest jewels."

Alanna lifted her head at the last of Meganne's speech, digesting the thought obviously for the first time. "He _is _very wealthy, is he?"

Meganne nodded emphatically. "I hear he isn't much of a knight, but the service that he will provide for the king… and his family must have _so much _collected after all these centuries."

"How can you be sure?" Alanna asked. Now Meganne laughed, flitting about the room with obvious delight.

"Have him buy you expensive gifts as part of his courtship! Tell him how much you _adore _rubies because they're the color of your hair, and see what he gives you."

Alanna had put the book away and was patting her greased hair absent-mindedly as she thought. "Won't," she said slowly, "a man like him require a large dowry?"

Meganne hesitated, pausing in her flitting and weighing Alanna up in her eyes. "If," she said, "he is _really_ quite taken with you, and because you come from a distinguished enough family, Sir Gareth might allow you a slightly smaller dowry… but it will still be some thousand gold crowns."

Taking on a distant, calculating look, Alanna rose, having forgotten both her book and her roommate. Still patting her hair, she stepped out the door into the hallway. Meganne rushed after her.

"Where are you going now? To see him?" she asked anxiously, though she was clearly excited by the prospect.

"Maybe," answered Alanna. "Why?"

"Oh, you _can't _go looking like that! You need an afternoon gown now, and your hair's miserable, stop that!" Meganne swatted Alanna's hand away from her hair and bullied her back into the room despite Alanna's protestations.

"I'm only going to think!" Alanna snapped. "I might not see him, and it doesn't matter how I look—what now?"

Meganne was tugging at her gown and unlacing the back. Resignedly, Alanna allowed her to pull the numerous layers over her head and then shove her face into a bowl of water. Meganne continued to chatter away as she washed and combed Alanna's hair. The victim pointedly ignored her, though she sat relatively complacently as Meganne twisted her hair about.

Alanna mused over the new complications. The lack of her name in her father's will had left her dowry, at best, in a precarious situation. It was certainly in her interest to marry as soon as possible if she didn't want to find herself begging her relatives for her father's money. Quite honestly, she didn't care either way, but enough years had been spent at the convent that she was quite accustomed to habitual action without a regard to her particular opinions or feelings—they'd long ago been dismissed and forgotten.

And so, the habitual action to take now, per instructions of the convent, would be to marry this knight.

However, she was quite certain that Gary had no such interests in mind in his pursuit of her, though she didn't quite know _what _he expected from her. Remembering again his promise from earlier in the day, Alanna wondered what conclusions he might have come to. Nobody had ever paid her enough mind to have noticed such things about her, and she eyed the book lying on the bed. She found herself weighing his trust in her mind. She had no idea what his motives were, and this only increased her wariness. It had been too long since she'd allowed anyone to gain a hold on her, and now wasn't the time to start.

_Watch yourself_, Alanna chided. She couldn't afford to make mistakes like those of this morning. _No more reading in the library. Don't read where he can find you_.

"Meganne," she began hesitantly. "What do you think would be the quickest way to…"

"Marry him?" her captor giggled. "Well, with Sir Gareth, I don't know. Do whatever it was that you did last night, Alanna, and he will be smitten in no time at all. "

Alanna wondered if she was capable of such manipulation as was required for a lady to contract a husband. Before, in the cold isolation of the Convent, she thought it'd be simple to say the things required in an interaction between an interested knight and an available lady. Such conversations were largely filled with superficialities, anyway, and she felt safe behind the protective barrier of acknowledged lies. Yet somehow, Gary hadn't complied with the commonplace formula and had managed to see something behind the superficiality.

Something within her constricted in cold terror at the thought of his mind groping hers.

"Do you own anything besides gray?" Meganne was exasperatedly searching through her dresses. "Here, I suppose you could wear something of mine if you wear some higher shoes… I'm only an inch taller, Alanna, don't look at me like that." She was displaying a plain afternoon gown of a soft lavender hue.

Though her eyes relayed her distaste, Alanna reached for the gown anyway. "Will these shoes do?" she asked Meganne.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gary was so surprised at the sight of the lady waiting at the entrance of the courtyard that he didn't notice Alex's next swing and was thrown to the ground, the end of a wooden sword pointed at his throat.

"Still can't focus," Alex said, smiling victoriously. Gary didn't answer but instead pushed aside his sword and scrambled down the length of the court.

"Lady!" he cried. "I thought that you weren't coming." Gary took in her appearance with a pleasure that surprised him. Though still plain, the dress she wore seemed less constricting on her body, and her hair was casually swept to frame her face. He squinted at her, as if to reassure himself that it was really Alanna. "You look lovely!" he said sincerely.

"Is that what the rouge is for?" she replied dryly. Gary noticed the rosier pallor of her face and understood.

"Ah, no, lady, you always look lovely," he offered. He noticed that her gaze was directed over his shoulder. "Ah, I'm afraid you saw me bested by Alex."

"So, this is what distracted you," he commented as he approached. Alex nodded toward Alanna in acknowledgment. "Lady of Trebond."

"Not for much longer," Alanna said, looking to Gary. Alex laughed.

"Well! That was direct! She's just met you and already she's let you know what she wants. I will leave the two of you to discuss your children and vacation home in the Copper Isles, then." He bowed at the waist and doubled back to collect the wooden sparring swords abandoned on the floor. Alanna watched him without a word, and Gary shifted uncomfortably.

"Well, Alex is the best fencer at Court," he explained, and her gaze took on a look of newfound interest.

"Really, now? Well, then there's no need to let me stop you. Continue as you were, by all means. I'll simply stay here, out of your way." She stepped back, as if to emphasize her point.

"Ah, so you don't believe me?" Gary pretended to be upset, but Alanna seemed only annoyed at his teasing. Shrugging, he trotted back towards where Alex stood, watching them with a half-amused expression.

"She wants to see the best fencer in the court in action," Gary said, by way of explanation. "But don't beat me too badly."

"If you don't want your lady to know just how bad you are," answered Alex as they squared off, "you'll focus and fight like a man."

Though he tried, Gary couldn't compete with Alex, and, already tired, he clumsily deflected the blows. Panting, he soon again found himself pressed to the ground after only a few short passes. Alanna analyzed the fight with that calculating expression so commonly found on her features and nodded appreciatively at its end.

"Congratulations," she called to Alex from her end of the courtyard as she hurried toward them. Alex bowed to her in triumph and extended a hand towards Gary.

"Lady, your man normally fares better," he called back. "But since he has already been beaten once today, he didn't put up a hard fight."

"A real man would fight harder if he'd been beaten before," she commented, and both of them stared at her for a long moment. Finally, Alex laughed and thumped Gary on the back.

"And she attacks your manhood as well! You've more than you can chew in this one, friend, I'll say that." Alex took Alanna's hand. Somewhat reluctantly, she allowed him to kiss it. "Milady, were you satisfied with what you saw?"

"Of what I saw of _you_, sir," she replied. "You do certainly deserve your reputation as a great swordsman."

"And I, lady," interjected Gary. "Have I now lost your favor, as I'd known that I would?"

She gave him a cool look. "Well, if you want to keep it, you won't lose to Sir Alexander again."

Gary was silent for a long moment before laughing good-naturedly. "I don't suppose you'd let me win next time, Alex? Then I shall never allow you to see me in a fight again, lady."

"I think I'm stealing her away from you," Alex said, with something of a cruel smile. Gary forced a laugh.

"Then I will let you two become better acquainted," he said, bowing out. "I suppose I won't see you tonight at banquet, lady? No matter, I must prepare… for important matters this evening."

"Nonsense!" said Alex with alarm. "Lady Alanna, I will not let Gary waste an opportunity with you if I am to be the cause. Don't argue, Gary—I will be gone before you can."

Alanna's eyes followed him as he hurried back to the palace, leaving them alone together. "How long have you been friends?" she asked, as if offhand.

Gary didn't answer but stared at her hard, as if trying to see her thoughts. Alanna shuddered slightly and ducked her head away in an attempt to avoid it. "Don't look at me like that," she said sharply.

"I'm sorry, lady," he answered, but didn't move his gaze.

"Good knight, if you would _please_," she snapped, and began moving towards the direction of the palace. Gary followed behind at a steady pace. Neither said anything for the next hundred paces, Alanna shivering under Gary's look, and he, watching her shifting steps and the bobbing of the back of her head for the answer to her new cruelty.

Finally, he said with controlled evenness, "You seem different today, milady."

"It's the rouge," she replied automatically. "Or perhaps the dress."

Gary grabbed her arm to stop her movement. "No, I mean from last night. Have I… done anything to deserve your new distaste for me? Was it because of this morning?"

Alanna pushed away his hand and stared up at him in surprise. "What new distaste for you, my dear knight?"

"You seemed not to care for me back there," he said, gesturing towards the courtyard. "Or if you simply prefer Sir Alex?"

Burning slightly, Alanna guiltily pushed the thoughts of Alex out of her head. "No, Sir Gareth—Gary." She peered up at his blank expression and noticed the twitch of muscle at his jaw and brow that generally indicated forced nonchalance. She recalled in her mind the words exchanged between the three of them in the last fifteen minutes. "If you felt that I had unmanned you--? I apologize, knight."

He made a noise that resembled a scoff, and her lips turned downward in response. Gary opened his mouth as if to say something, but shut it abruptly. "You accused me this morning of pretending feelings that I didn't have, but it appears that _you _were the one with falsities." He bowed exaggeratedly, and stepped past her, his face a strange amalgamation of expressions she only half-recognized.

"At least I have reasons for mine," she said, her voice cutting through his steps and stopping him. He turned back.

"Oh, and what might those be, lady?" A cold anger colored his voice.

Alanna stood silently still, a strange emotion within her fighting its way to the surface. She considered first one answer, then another. At last, she said, in measured notes, "You are right, Gary. I have wronged you."

"Lady," Gary placed his hand above his heart in a wearily courteous fashion. "Your wrongs are no greater than those of any woman… And I cannot fault you for them."

"What is it that you say of women ?" The words were clipped.

"You say that men always tease," Gary said, "but you women always flatter and cut and deceive with the same tongue. First you are cold, then you wish to please, and then you are vicious. Lady, don't leave one impression and then immediately disregard it for another. It always makes me wonder if any woman is real, or if she is only the series of acts that she carries on, or—"

He halted, knowing that he had gone too far. Alanna's eyes were wild and a strange green fear seemed to stare at him from some depths within her.

"Forgive my tongue, lady. It normally will not carry on so, I don't know what is wrong with me this evening." He stared at her helplessly, wondering with horror if she were about to cry.

Instead, Alanna drew herself to her fullest height and stared at him with some proud strength in her features. "I have been," she said, "what you have said. But—" she faltered. "But only because…" Alanna stopped again, as if choking on the words. "Because I have been taught to act in such a way."

"Is that what they spend so long teaching you in the convent," Gary said wonderingly, with a shake of his head. "How to be deceitfully excellent actresses. I suppose then it is a compliment that they took so long trying to teach it to you?"

Her draw slackened for a moment as she tilted her head at him quizzically. Then, upon realizing that he meant well by it, Alanna pressed her lips together and nodded curtly. However, the light that shone out of her eyes was so full a smile that she could not entirely hide it.

"Last night," she said carefully, "I was—behaving as was required of me…as civilly as I could. There is a limit to how much I can pretend, and I will not fake such coquettish flirtation as… well, I can't _even_. And this morning… well, you caught me by surprise."

"And so your natural good nature was revealed!" Gary laughed, and Alanna lowered her eyes, lest he see the smile that was threatening to take hold.

"Well, I have not… spoken with anyone in years, really. I was surprised at… how much you could guess using so little." She stilled and now was smiling openly, vulnerably at him with a disquieting kind of seriousness. He read there, or rather, he guessed, what she left unsaid, about the years of neglect and the distance she'd attempted to put between herself and the nearest human soul.

Gently, Gary took her hand and kissed it with all the sincere tenderness he felt in that moment, and said quietly, "Allow me, lady, if you will, your trust." When the fear began to return to her eyes, he covered her hand in both of his and bowed his head. "I will keep your secrets, all the ones that you don't tell me."

Not answering, she simply looked at him, wanting to read all his thoughts as he'd read hers.

"We all have our secrets," she said. "It's not right that you should know mine."

"No," he said. "But you have so many, that it's only fair that some of them show. You are very mysterious, lady, but you can't keep everything behind your…_acts_ and your … viciousness. I'd think that your actual nature would be far more pleasant. What do you fear by revealing it?"

"What if my actual nature _was_ vicious?" she countered. "If I meant all that I said? That I _don't _think you're a man if you don't fight once you've been beaten?"

He winced. "That… is better than… acting."

"Is it? Then I say that a man would not be so upset by what I said," she finished, with a bit of defensiveness.

"But if I were such a man, there would have been no need for you to say such because I would have bested Alex," Gary argued.

"Exactly." Alanna stopped, confused at Gary's triumph.

"So, you see, you're not really so vicious after all," he said, laughing.

"I don't like people," she told him snappishly. "I don't like to talk to people. I don't let anyone touch me, and I'm _not_ nice, and I'm—why do you keep smiling?"

Gary kissed her hand again. "See? You _do _trust me. I have your favor after all, and such a favor!" He was met with a glare.

"I hate you," Alanna said, but she didn't let go of his hand.

AN: At this point, I thoroughly hate Alanna—she's much too strong-willed of a character. I just wrote this chapter three times, with three very different results, in order to come out with this, a compromise. It's a good thing that I can get Gary to say more of what I'd like him to say or else this story would be getting nowhere. If Alanna had her way, it'd be three more chapters before she started opening up to anyone. I'd thought I'd speed things up a little and get the story going before I've bored you all away.


	3. In Which Elijah Comes to Corus

Chapter Three-

The figure at the top of the dune lifted one hand to shield his eyes from the sun. The rest of his face was concealed by a dust-colored cloth that wrapped around his head and, like his attire, seemed almost to vanish into the bleak desert landscape. Yet two sharp violet eyes glittered out the shadows of his face and gazed across the miles of sand towards the city.

Another figure appeared beside him from over the top of the dune. Smaller and slighter in frame, she, too, shielded her eyes and followed his gaze. Quiet words in the desert tongue passed between the two, followed by furious gestures.

_"Can you not find some other way? He will not keep his word," _the woman argued.

_"He has promised me," _he reassured her. _"He owes me his life, and I have not yet made demands. He must know that I would come sometime."_

_"Those men are always treacherous, and do not value we who do them services. I would rather that we—"_

_"Let our men fight them? Let them continue to accuse us of thievery and other dishonors as we have not committed? No."_

_"What care we about our honor in their eyes?" _she cried in exasperation. _"So long as they leave us be."_

_"But have they? Will they? The women in the north cry out for protection, those from the inlands want vengeance, and our men are restless. Besides," _he said with a tone of finality, _"I have other reasons for going."_

_"Those dreams?" _ She said it more as a statement than a question, and knew that she had lost their argument.

Behind them, several Bazhir tribesmen led stubborn packhorses to the bottom of the dune. They watched the arguing pair without judgment, waiting patiently while readjusting packs and drinking from canteens. One of them quipped a joke and the others laughed tiredly. The voice of one tribesman called out to the man at the top of the dune, _"Illiah!"_, followed by some questioning words in their language.

The man placed a comforting arm around the distraught woman and answered the tribesmen affirmatively, pointing towards the horizon. One Bazhir tribesman separated from the others and spurred his horse in the direction that the man had pointed. The rest of the company waited a moment, watching his movement disappear into the mirage of the desert. Then they began to pick their way onward across the miles, following the rider and the small man treading ahead of them who was their leader.

Illiah the Healer-Who-Has-Seen-Death was coming again to Corus.

---------------------------------------------------------

Gary saw Alanna, every so often, lurking about the edges of the courtyards, observing fencers at practice. He didn't know when he would find her there, but he was never surprised, in the middle of sparring, to catch her watching him from the shadows of his vision's periphery.

It was their unspoken agreement that he never approach her about it. Actually, much that passed between them was unspoken, particularly references to the events of that day. Alanna was as unpredictable as before, speaking to him for long afternoons and then ignoring him for days afterward, completely disappearing from public sight. She seemed uncertain and indecisive, confiding in him and then, as if having second thoughts, contradicting it in whatever manner she could. Yet there was some understanding in their interactions, for Gary acknowledged her internal conflicts and saw them as the natural accompaniment to her gradually growing trust in him.

He was not, however, always so patient.

"Where have you been the past week?" he demanded, cornering Alanna in a hallway where he happened to glimpse her. "I've been looking everywhere for you! You haven't been to banquet or at the practice courts, and I've waited every morning in the library."

"You know that I don't go to the library any more," Alanna responded coldly. "And why would you think to find me in places of men? Perhaps you should have sought me in the embroidery rooms with the other ladies."

"Don't give me any of that," Gary snapped. "I know you wouldn't—" He stopped and inhaled sharply, his mouth pressed tightly into a sharp frown. "And, milady, has this occupation also claimed your evening hours as well?"

"Oh, I was at banquet," answered Alanna. She smiled rather cruelly when recognition failed to register on Gary's face. "What, sir knight? Do not be so sure that my time is yours so exclusively. There might be other knights who might wish to—" Alanna laughed, a small bitter bark that Gary had come to realize was common to her and, one he learned what it revealed, reflected her innermost more than anything else.

"I see," he replied, in a tone to match hers. "So that is the game you play, then?" He spread his arms. "I cannot bind you to me, lady, and if your favor is to be given to other, worthier men, then—"

"Oh, stop it!" Alanna often grew irritated and hostile when Gary turned her own methods upon her. "It's not as if my favor matters to you. What does my favor get you, anyway? Will you marry me, will you keep me from poverty? Then I will find some man who does seek more than conversation, before my dowry has gone to waste." Her mouth clamped shut, a sign that she had said too much. Turning and fumbling with the keys, Alanna struggled to unlock the door to the rooms she shared with the other ladies from the Convent.

"Is your dowry what has been troubling you?" Gary prompted with more tenderness, a frown creasing between his brows. "Maybe then, I could help you. My family is more than wealthy, and for a friend, I could—"

"What was that?" Alanna stopped and stared at him. Gary took the keys from her hand and unlocked the door for her.

"I could always, milady, help you if it is troubles of… financial nature that are troubling you, after all—"

"Before that," Alanna interrupted. "What did you call me?"

"… milady?" Gary timidly suggested.

"You said," Alanna stressed angrily, "that _for a friend_, you could…?"

"Yes, Alanna," Gary said, bowing with some relief, "as my friend—"

"Ha! _**Friend** is it?_" she yelled, and entered her room, slamming the door in Gary's face. Dumbfounded, he stared at the polished wood, recounting his words.

"I wasn't aware that you would be offended by the… assumption," he said helplessly.

"Yes, assumption!" came her muffled anger through the wood. "_Friend_, I knew it! I knew it, I knew it, I knew that's how you were!"

"Lady, I don't understand—in what manner you are offended by… the word? I only meant you honor by it, truly."

"It's all you wanted then, was just to toy around with me and hold me to you while all the while you're just 'befriending me.' _Friendship _is an—abhor-able institution, almost as vile as _love_."

"I… beg your pardon, Alanna?" Gary coughed, aghast.

"At least, when men and women play games of courtship, both sides know that it's all just making a bargain, but _friend! Friend _is nothing, _friend _is wasting my time, _friend _means I have no chance; I don't need your _friendship_, fool!"

Her anger was thick enough that he understood her meaning even though half of her words were lost through the woodwork. "Did you… want more, my lady?"

"What do you think? Oh, go _away _you cheater!"

"If I have led you to… believe that I had other interests—"

"How could I have not, you wicked flirt, you devil!"

Gary, his mouth agape, decided not to accuse her of the same actions but instead settled on another tactic. "By _friend_, I mean that I consider you very close to me. I value your company and conversation more than … any other mere court lady's, and I would fight for your honor if ever you were slighted. As a friend, I mean that I…care for you, and—"

"But would not marry me!" Alanna yelled.

"Well… I had not thought of that, no, but—"

"Then be_gone_! Away, fie! I have _never _been so humiliated. Go **away!**"

Gary wondered at the emotion resonating through her voice. He would never, upon meeting her that first night with her vacant and hostilely compliant demeanor, have imagined her capable of such fury. Her rage now racked him bodily, and he stepped backward away from the door.

While he listened to the shuffling silence, a blonde page scurrying down the corridor paused and peered upward into his face for a moment and, recognizing him, bowed.

"Sir Gareth, there's been an envoy that's just arrived, sir. Says that the mage is coming to Corus, sir, in a few days. The King wants all the important knights to meet on account of readying the city for what he wants."

"What mage?" Gary asked blankly. "What is he demanding? Are we going to be under siege?"

"No, sir. It's the mage Elijah, who healed the prince."

"What!" Gary cried in alarm. The page nodded excitedly.

"He's coming and will be here soon, we don't know when, but not long from now. The whole city has to be readied to welcome him, and the King wants to speak to all the knights. Prince Jonathan also wants to see you, says it's urgent."

Gary stared at Alanna's shut door and sighed. He could always talk to her later, after she had cooled down and decided to be a rational being again. With a nod, he followed the cheerful page in the direction of the east wing.

Inside the series of rooms, Alanna sat despondently in the chaise by the door of the bedchamber she shared with Meganne, waiting for the sound of Gary's footsteps to disappear down the hallway. When she was certain that he was gone, she pulled the practice sword out from under the bed. It was constructed crudely of iron, and far heavier than steel. She had sighted it earlier in the week, carelessly discarded about the practice courts, and managed to smuggle it back to her rooms beneath her gown.

Quickly shedding her garments, the nearly-naked Alanna was soon grasping the sword with both hands and, panting, clumsily dragging it through the air. She buckled many times under its weight and could hardly maintain a proper stance. When she lunged, her entire arm trembled with the effort of holding the sword alight, and Alanna soon heaved it to the floor.

She had not been completely honest with Gary. Many of her hours that week had been spent hefting the heavy object, not on embroidery, and her muscles were generally far too sore later in the day for the ordeals of dancing—and any such time was far better spent at the obsessive hours of secret practice, anyway.

Massaging her arms, Alanna allowed herself a moment of guilt over her lies. She hadn't, in truth, believed that Gary was interested in wedding her, but she was nonetheless shaken by his outright statement against it. Muttering bitterly against friendship, Alanna was on her feet again, pulling the sword into the air.

Several pages of the manuscript were memorized inside her head. She recalled the images as she shuffled into the various stances, attempting to keep her back straight and her head aloft, as was the dictated proper form.

If she had stopped to think about it, even Alanna herself would not have understood the internal change that had come over her. Somewhere, in the weeks of Gary's company, she'd let a part of herself go. Who was she now that she could yell so angrily over some small hurt—who was she that she could now _feel_ hurt? And who was she who stole practice swords and wielded them in the memory of some forgotten dream?

But such things had not occurred to her yet, and she merely went through the motions of fencing. She was in the process of feigning a series of parries when the door opened unexpectedly, and her roommate entered.

Alanna and Meganne stared at each other for a long moment, Alanna frozen mid-parry and Meganne shocked still at the door, her hand still on the knob. Quickly, Meganne looked away as Alanna threw the sword under her bed and flung herself again onto the chaise.

"Well," Meganne said uncomfortably, blatantly attempting to ignore what had just occurred, "Lara and I are going to the market to have our gowns fixed. Nelly is preoccupied with the Earl of Urlien, that decrepit old man. So, we're taking you with us, Alanna."

"Why?" she asked leisurely as she tried to regain a measured breath. Meganne frowned.

"Get dressed. Because someone important is coming to Corus, and we're all going to have to look splendid for the ball. The whole palace is in upheaval with preparations—you might as well come with us, it will be chaos here with all the servants running about, and you won't be able to have any peace and quiet or do… anything." Meganne gave her a meaningful look.

Wincing at her aching back, Alanna nonetheless acknowledged the logical argument by kicking the rumpled gown up off the floor and attempting to drag it onto her body. "Who is coming? Foreign dignitaries?" she asked with some interest.

"Foreign, maybe," said Meganne, tugging at Alanna's skirt. "The mage who cured Prince Jonathan during the sweating sickness—powerful man, and their Majesties owe him a great deal."

"A mage?" Alanna froze, the familiar sickening feeling returning to her stomach. All the years in Convent, she'd felt the use of the Gift by the mages-in-training in the buildings nearby, the magic pulling at her veins. She was insomniac for years, until, ironically, the Daughters resorted to subduing her into unconsciousness with their charms.

"Oh, Alanna, he's a good man, and powerful. There's nothing to worry about, you silly girl, he won't cast a spell on you."

Shaking her head emphatically, Alanna pulled away from Meganne. "No, Meganne, I think that I'll stay here—"

"Don't be ridiculous! If you're so afraid of mages, then in the marketplace would be the place to be anyway, not here in the palace where they're going to be. If you want to hide somewhere, it wouldn't be in this room."

Thoroughly chastised by Meganne's reasonable tone, Alanna finished dressing swiftly and allowed herself to be led away.

----------------------------------

The streets were no less chaotic than the palace—indeed, they were probably more so. It seemed that all the people were having the same thoughts as Meganne and Lara did because thousands were nearly walking atop each other, crowding and pushing through the streets and the alleyways and packed into the plazas.

Somehow, Meganne had manage to wrangle a poor squire who was now carrying three of Meganne's gowns, two of Lara's, and one gray gown that belonged to Alanna.—Meganne had insisted she bring it.

"I don't have money for this," Alanna reminded Meganne, but she brushed it off.

"You can repay me after you've married some rich man like Sir Gareth. Now, I know that there is an excellent seamstress somewhere in this district…"

Alanna eyed the elegant weaponry of the guards as they passed by the Temple District. There were more guards posted about that usual, and an abnormal number of knights hurried throughout the city, as urgently as the ladies who carried gowns with them.

A hand pulled her into darkness. Blinking rapidly, Alanna was able to make out the din surroundings of a store. Several other ladies waited about, and one fat woman in an obscene shade of mauve was taking the dresses from their squire.

"The blue and lavender ones are to be taken down at the shoulders, as in the latest style, and the skirts are to be lengthened in the back with a bit of a train," Meganne was instructing. "And the copper one is to be embroidered about the waist in the image of little lilies and cut in eyelets along the hem and collar. The grey dress with the lace is to be tightened at the waist and lifted all about, with lace trim and chiffon sleeves. Lara, how do you want your pink gown to be altered?"

"Take out the bottom foot and place in a red color, like this-here's hair," Lara said, pulling away some of the loose tendrils that clung to Alanna's neck. "And gather it about, like the queen's gown was at the last ball."

"And the grey linen gown?" asked the woman, hefting it contemptuously. "What of that one?"

Meganne pulled Alanna forward. "See her eyes? A violet embroidery all along the bottom, and up the back. Open up the back of the gown, and lengthen it. Take away the sleeves—"

"Keep the sleeves," interjected Alanna.

"Take them away, I'm the one who's paying," continued Meganne.

"I am the one who is to wear it," answered Alanna stubbornly.

"I can get you a wrap later," she said, by way of mollification, "So, if you please, take away the sleeves, tighten the bodice, and add a stomacher—no bows, but embroidery along the edges, and along the waist as well."

"You're wasting your time," said the woman. "And your money. It won't make the gown look any better. You might as well get a new one."

"And a violet petticoat, too. Only one," replied Meganne, daring her to argue. The woman shrugged and carried the gown away.

"That will be thirty-five silver crowns, to be paid for on the day."

"How quickly can you have them finished?" Meganne asked anxiously.

"For an extra ten, the day before the ball," answered the woman.

"Excellent then," Meganne chirped, and the three of them were out into the streets once again. They were soon at the perfumery, where Meganne pressed her nose into several pungent scents.

"I won't stink like refuse," snapped Alanna, after Meganne and Lara had already selected a few concoctions for themselves and were attempting to coax her to brave an ominously ancient-looking bottle.

"It's from the Copper Isles, and it—"

"Is expensive," Alanna pointed out. "If you want, I have some rosewater already that I could bathe in."

Her two companions looked at each other and then pressed a small, nondescript green vial into her hand. "You _don't _want to smell cheap. This, I promise you, is worth your money," insisted Meganne.

"Who's even going to bother _sniffing _me?" cried Alanna. "And with all the women smelling so strongly of rubbage, it's not as if any man can discern _my _scent!"

"On the contrary," said Lara, "_this _will suit you. It is fresh, whimsical, light, and yet when you dance with a man, he will have one whiff and be utterly seduced."

Alanna was unconvinced, but again she found herself leaving the perfumery with an item she had not paid for nor wanted.

When they entered the jeweler's, Alanna waited uncomfortably away from the large baubles as Meganne and Lara held the gems against their skin. When asked if a gold medallion suited Lara's cleavage, Alanna's only response was a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, come now Alanna," bullied Lara, dragging her to the display. "You _must _find something that you like! You don't have any jewelry."

"Why do you suppose that is?" she answered dryly, glancing over the trinkets. A small piece of polished obsidian set on a silver chain glinted at her from the edge of the table. She lifted it off the cloth and fingered its smooth edges.

"Oh _no_," exclaimed Lara immediately. "You'd look like you're wearing a piece of _coal _about your neck!"

"How much?" Alanna asked, tracing the tiny etchings along the back. There was something within in the rock… something calming.

Ignoring Meganne's adamant protestations, Alanna purchased the rock for a copper penny, and the three left the stall, her companions considerably more drained monetarily than she.

Somewhere in the hustle of the streets, she felt curiously lighter on her right side and, when she reached into her pockets, realized that her purse was missing. When she stopped, she was knocked to the ground. A large, calloused hand appeared before her and helped her to her feet.

Alanna found herself gazing up at two friendly hazel eyes that leant an air of attractiveness to their owner, who was presently steadying her with concern.

"Careful in the big city, lass. You lost?" he asked, though his voice was far too jovial for the meaning of his words.

"No, I just stopped because I've been robbed," Alanna said, looking about for the thief. The man frowned, and then procured her purse from within his shirt. Her eyes widening, she quickly snatched the purse from him.

"You! You took my purse, and knocked me over, and here you are pretending to be such a good Samaritan!" Alanna hissed.

"Easy, lady. You should an eye more carefully on your things," he said. "And I didn't take your purse, you just dropped it."

"Oh, right!"

"I can tell you're not from hereabouts," he said, chuckling. "You're something else."

"And what of it?" she snapped.

"Well, if you ever need friends in Corus, George Cooper can be of help," he said sincerely.

"Friends?" Alanna barked. "That vile institution again. I'll have the guards on you, you pocketpicker!"

"Is that any way to treat someone willing to help you, lady?" he said, still complacently, opening his hands in a gesture of goodwill. "Maybe you're just too much of a noblewoman to have anything to do with us commoners." He studied her reaction for a moment. "Well, until next time then, Alanna."

Alanna gasped when he said her name, but the thief had disappeared inside the thronging masses.

AN: sorry for the delay in this chapter. School just started, and I am taking 5 AP classes. However, I shall be back on schedule and up to producing a chapter a week again. I can't wait until I reach the section in _Chain Reaction _where I actually wrote something of substance so that I can simply flesh out the chapters and alter them rather than having to completely rewrite them. I am also getting very tired of all this exposition, especially since the crux of my story is a character piece (my biggest flaw with the original, I think). Which is why I have taken to combining certain chapters and omitting other parts. But I will what I can do about getting up the next chapter ahead of time, to make up for the delay.


End file.
